I Cried Until I Laughed

In January Of 2000 At The Age Of Fifty-Two I Underwent A Fairly Simple Surgery To Remove Fibroids. I Came Out Six Hours Later Without Fibroids But With A Diagnosis Of Ovarian Cancer Stage 3C. They Said It Was A Sarcoma On My Right Pelvic Wall And Was A Very Rare Type—Aggressive High Grade With No Protocol For Treatment. I Was Told I Had From Six Months To Five Years With No Forecast On A Quality Of Life During That Time.Upon Being Released From The Hospital I Set Out To Map A Wellness Plan To Keep Track Of All My Medical Tests Blood Draws Ct Scans X-Rays And Surgeries. I Felt If I Had Control Of My Life I Could Control My Future.I Gave Myself The Right To Have Hope. Hope To Track Control And Fight This With Everything I Could. I Knew I Trusted My Doctor With My Body But I Needed To Give Myself Hope To Control My Visions Anxiety And Emotions And How I Treated Myself.So I Devised A Fighting Plan. I Became My Own Health Advocate. I Kept Up With All My Tests Results My Blood Draws My Surgeon’S Reports And Kept A Paper Trail.After My Twenty-Two-Month Journey I Was Pronounced Ned On September 11 2001. I Kept My Catheter In For Two And Half Years For A Just-In-Case Moment And Then For My Christmas Present To Myself I Had It Removed In My Surgeon’S Office.That Day Was When I Knew I Had Made It. I Accepted My Positive Attitude My Plan And The Fact To Feel The Self-Control And Not Let Something Control You Doesn’T Define Who You Are.A Great Friend Told Me That “Cancer Is Only A Word Not A Sentence” And I Proved Him Right!